


The Very Not Nice and Fairly Irritating Problem of Anthony J Crowley

by TheTimelessChild0



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Embarrassment, Urination, World Toilet Day, aziraphale and crowley are just friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 05:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21489187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: Hereallyshouldn't have shredded all his potted plants..
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	The Very Not Nice and Fairly Irritating Problem of Anthony J Crowley

Crowley stared in disbelief at the seemingly infinite strip of cars ahead and behind him. It was as if they all had received some mysterious inkling telling them to leave town at the same time as him. It gave him even more reason to wish his boss would check his smaller departments, then he could have found a way to get to the airbase and help Aziraphale without mingling with the humans. 

It wasn’t exactly the humans he minded; when they weren’t being tortured, which was fun in itself, it was quite fascinating to see them going about their business, without a single idea that they were part of any sort of elaborate scheme. Heck, a significant portion of them didn’t even believe in an Almighty at all. From _ either _pantheon. 

No, what was bothering Crowley at this moment was, put simply, his _ smaller department _ . It, too, had _ business _ to attend to. Preferably in the next hour or so. Crowley shifted his tall snake-like legs back and forth, checking if there was an exit, _ any at all, _ for the three thousand and 38th time. 

He really regretted not stopping by his place _ before _ fetching his Bentley. Alas, at the time he had considered it, but concluded ‘_for what?’ _ The answer had materialised about an hour ago. He hadn’t worried very much then. The average time it took to drive from Central London to Tadfield was 20 minutes. 30 with traffic. Now, however, with traffic plus _wheel of fire_, the most anxious voice inside Crowley's head estimated 300 minutes. Which was quite far past his limit. 

Crowley crossed his legs and stretched them as far as he could, while avoiding the gas and brake pedals. When that didn’t work, he sat upright with crossed legs, wriggling. 

To be honest, the demon was impressed that none of the humans had exited their cars yet. Their bladders were just like his. He stretched his head, hopefully, spotting a man exiting his car, one hand gripping his member, clearly intending to pee. Then he stood still, like a soldier, apparently muttering something. Well. _ There goes that option _ , Crowley sulked. Everything outside was controlled by the aura of his superiors. There was no way of knowing that stepping out wouldn’t instantly summon his “coworkers”. Perhaps they would even notice his problem. The humiliation would be worse than discorporation. That was the one thing he envied in his angelic friend. He didn’t have a **body** to _ betray him _, at all. 

* * *

As soon as Satan ducked back into the ground, Crowley ducked inside the airbase. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called around himself. His friend had disappeared.

Crowley stormed into the main control room, still partially on fire. In front of him were two options. A large bucket that had a fire to put out in it anyway..and a door in the back of the room indicating a toilet. 

His leather trousers, which had tugged at his muscles on the way up the stairs and forced his thighs together, was now forming a tight seal, or _ grip _ around his member. Supported by his hand, the demon hobbled between bits of fire, to the toilet door. He entered, ignored the “burning bush” of scattered loo roll scraps in the corner and approached the toilet.

Crowley hissed at the frustrating task of _ unhooking _ the latch on his leather trousers. 

“Bloody 70s,” he grumbled. Eventually, he got himself positioned to finally, release. His legs transformed halfway through, slinking on the floor in relief. Once finished, he slithered slowly back to full human form, to the sink to wash his hands. 

Now much more relaxed, he observed the inferno in the office, and miracled it away on a whim. 

* * *

“Where did you go? We won!” Aziraphale cheered, with both excitement and wonder. 

“Just thought someone should put out the fire, and it was my guys who started the one on the road..” Crowley remarked. 

“Well, you missed a bit,” Anathema pointed out the remaining fire, visible through the window. 

“What are you interrogating me for, are you a witch?” Crowley snarked. 

“Yes,” Anathema stated, matter-of-factly.

“Well, good for you,” he scoffed, slinking away. Aziraphale forgot what he wanted to know. 

Spotting a piece of parchment underneath Crowley’s foot, Anathema jumped forward and grabbed it. The demon shrugged. “Not mine,” and kept walking. 

On the top of the page she was holding, Anathema read the words “prophecy 3038” 

_ The creature of fire, shall be filled with water, and brought to attention about nature’s basest abilities. Thou ought to assist this _ ** _foul _ ** _ creature, for he knows not the dangers of haste and the virtues of foresight _

Anathema chuckled to herself. She understood now, where he had been. 

“What does it say?” Newt queried, looking over Anathema’s shoulder. She put it in her pocket, waving away the gaze of her husband.

“Well, that we should stay in England, and that we will meet Crowley and Aziraphale again,” she explained, simply. 

“When?” he asked. 

“Depends. Pun intended.” was her only response, as she entered Dick Turpin and headed back to the cottage. 

The End.


End file.
